


Haunted

by esotika



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Post-Canon, wow i'm really writing phan fic at the age of 22 huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 20:06:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17351741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esotika/pseuds/esotika
Summary: His star in the night had burned out and left him; there was no use for Erik to continue to dream at night any longer. ALW!Verse.





	Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from the song Haunted by Poe. feedback and kudos is always appreciated!

There was too much time in the day for him to think. To be lost in his own thoughts, overwhelmed in the guilt and grief of his loss. Oh,  _Christine_  - the star of the night, his many endless nights. 

His muse was gone. His star had burned out, leaving him in the dark. To say her name aloud felt as if it’d burn his tongue at the first vowel.

The Vicomte – how he wanted to blame him.  _That boy_ , he thought of him,  _that boy_ who destroyed everything,  _that boy_  who ruined his opera house,  _that boy_  who left with her.  And how close Erik came to crushing  _that boy_. It was too easy to pick him off like a tick, too easy to watch him in despair, but Christine,  _oh C_ _hristine_ , how terrified her eyes were. Erik couldn’t even cover the thought of watching his star cry out in horror. 

Time felt too heavy. To even sit at his piano and attempt to pick up his pen felt like a terrible joke; there was no use in writing if she was gone. He’d often end up sitting in his personal library, attempting to cover his own thoughts, only to no prevail. 

He could blame anyone else, anyone but him, but left to his own thoughts, he understood. He understood it was his own doing that made his star burn out.

A delicate dove such as her didn’t belong in his arms, he thought. The sun could go out, the moon could disappear and none of it would matter to him, as long as his star continued to burn in the night. But she was much softer than him, so much softer, so much more radiant than he could allow himself to adore. 

_Oh Christine_ , how she deserved to see the sun and moon and oceans and landscapes. How she deserved to see the beauty this world held, she didn’t deserve to live in the cellars with him, Erik couldn’t forgive himself if he forced her to live in this hell with him. 

Once, maybe, his envy would’ve consumed him. Christine would’ve had no choice in the matter, she would have had to stay in the darkness underneath his opera house, but feeling her heart close to his, feeling how fast it beat, not out of adoration, but out of fear, Erik realized that Christine Daaé belonged to the light, not in his arms nor his darkness.

Erik has known hurt. It’s all he’s known, hurt, ache, misery, anger, frustration, the only emotions he knows too well. But this kind of hurt was different. It felt like an overwhelming sickness, something that would devour him. She was gone, and she wasn’t to return, and it was a settling ache that was enough to consume him entirely.

Erik was unsure what was to become of him; everything was for her. 

Nothing more was left for him to grasp. 

_Christine, my Christine, how I love you._

**Author's Note:**

> WOW okay, my first phantom fic ever despite this being one of my all-time favorite stories ever ever ever. it took me a little while to write this but i'm glad i can finally contribute to this fandom! part 2 will be up hopefully before the end of this month :)


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